


Moments

by ziegler



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2017, Fluff, Mentions of Sex, Pharmercy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:33:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9896639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziegler/pseuds/ziegler
Summary: Mercy treasures nothing more in the world than Pharah, and she thinks long and hard about all of the reasons and moments along the way that made her fall in love.





	

Fareeha Amari is the love of Angela Ziegler’s life.

Angela had often thought how there were so many ways for her to recognize this on an everyday basis. There had been so many grand gestures that Fareeha had done, let alone herself – such as proposing marriage to a very tearfully joyful Angela on Christmas Eve, sweeping her off of her feet for times alone after battle – sometimes literally – no matter how tired Fareeha actually _was_ , and yet, alongside these gestures, Angela fell the most in love with Fareeha Amari for the little everyday things she did for her.

Those moments in life had always been Angela’s favourite. 

And there were so many. There were so _many_ moments between her and Fareeha that she had lost count. She was always able to name a few of her favourites. Some of her favourite moments were of them just standing around, but still being able to see how glorious and powerful the cobalt blue of Fareeha’s raptora suit looked under the midday sunshine; another was the way Fareeha always swooped Angela out of the dangerous situations that she often landed her in – but Angela’s favourite moment – the most relieving, most welcome moment of all between them, was the first time Angela had caught Fareeha’s eye; smiling brightly at her across the battlefield, and it was a good thing she _had_ done at that exact moment, because it stopped Fareeha walking directly into the line of fire from being a little lovestruck.

In this particular instance, they’re drinking coffee with some of their friends. The atmosphere is relaxed, and so comfortable; the warm sunlight of Numbani a welcome reprieve. But despite this, and despite being next to Fareeha so happily, Angela Ziegler is completely lost in thought, a reflective moment of peace, where she realizes how she has truly always enjoyed a moment of peace and quiet.

She knows, however, that she always gets like this after a long mission. Angela is perfectly self-aware. Especially after missions where they are both required to be in strenuous weather conditions, at that. It is almost as though all of the emotion, the horror and the worry and the dread that comes from having a lover on the battlefield – in the direct line of fire, at that – evaporates away the second they return, knowing that Fareeha is safe and in love and warm in her arms, and more than likely with her lips pressed to Angela’s in bed.

And so, Angela continues to think. She thinks about Fareeha, she thinks about the feeling of her fingertips grazing the tip of Fareeha’s skin, and she thinks of the catalogue of their memories in vivid colour. Little moments, further still, where Fareeha would bring her breakfast when she had been working all night, without Angela even knowing she was going to be up all night _herself_ ; the moments where Fareeha told her she looked beautiful after a long day, and when Fareeha would stroke Angela’s hair as she lay on her stomach whilst they watched the television before them.

Little things.

Little gestures meant big emotions, to Angela. She always was one for reading under the surface.  

It has definitely been a hard few days. They had been stationed in the unforgiving tundra of Antartica, and also forced into restrained amounts of affection, which neither woman particularly ever enjoyed being subject to. Fareeha is much more publically emotional than Angela, and Angela is much more publically physical than Fareeha; but behind closed doors, they are on a level, and intensely magnified.  
  
Angela often finds herself hating Talon more and more with each passing day. Not just for the strain that they were collaboratively putting on humanity, but more for the sheer fact that she could not hold Fareeha for nearly as long as she wanted to in the dewy spring mornings. She missed it, when she couldn’t do that.

She missed watching the ethereal streams of the morning dawn streaming in, golden wisps of light bathing Fareeha’s skin as she lay drowsily against Angela, who, much to her joy, inhaled the comforting smell of cinnamon from her lover’s hair; able to kiss at her golden braids. It was beyond irritating to have that stripped away when she loved it so much.

But the job comes _first_. That’s always the false mantra of choice they tell themselves privately. They repeat it mentally, but weakly, because both of them know full well that each other come first. They say it first as the worst form of self-comfort, and usually after a loud blast, or a scream; frantic eyes scanning the battlefield for any sign of blonde hair or golden glinting braids, terrified that the worst has happened, until heads or wings reach the eyes of each other alike.

The nightmares of Fareeha Amari’s irreversible death plagues Angela, but she knows full well that as long as she does her job, both Fareeha and Pharah would be fine under the warm glow of her caduceus.

Not to mention she knew how capable Fareeha Amari was, too – hell, she didn’t get to be the commander of an _entire_ unit of soldiers without being seriously skilled at her profession. It warmed Angela’s heart, and Fareeha often told Angela how proud she was of her for being so talented in the medical fields in return, which felt like the greatest reward of all.  

The job _has_ to come first. _Humanity_ has to come first. Justice and Mercy go hand in hand for the better of the people; but Angela and Fareeha go hand in hand in adoration.

And god, Angela loved her. She loved her more than she could ever describe. Angela loved Fareeha more than any sensation of other happiness that rattled through her bones, and so much more than the planets and stars that rested so calmly above them.

Fareeha Amari, to Angela’s mind, was a gift from the universe that had landed right at her doorstep.

And so, deep out of the realm of Angela’s thoughts in this instance, they are both drinking celebratory coffee amidst the chatting customers. Wafts of the scent of cooked muffins and bagels reach their nostrils, along with idle chit-chat between barista and patron about the omnics mentioned in the papers from today.

Fareeha’s hand has been resting on Angela’s thigh this entire time, and in return, Angela’s hand warmly rests atop it. Nobody has questioned it. Nobody has even noticed it. But Angela and Fareeha’s fingers have been interlocked with one another’s for quite some time, huddled up close to each other in the seat, sipping at their caffeine as though it isn’t the happiest moment they’ve had all week.

Angela watches Fareeha as she talks.

She scans every flicker of her lover’s deep brown eyes, every motion of her lips as she speaks, every single curve and line that presses into Fareeha’s cheek from her reactions to the conversation she’s having with Zarya, and she feels the indescribable lump of emotion form in her throat of an overwhelming desire to just _kiss_ her. Angela longs to kiss her jawline, to tell her just how beautiful she looks when she even speaks. She thinks to herself privately how it is a crime that Fareeha Amari might not know of her own resting beauty without ever even having to try.

Angela’s blue eyes smile along with her lips, and the first to notice her adoring look is Lucio from across the table, who, behind a hand that he is using to rub at his chin, smiles privately to himself whilst sipping at his drink.

“Do you want a refill, Fareeha?”

Fareeha moves her free hand dismissively, shaking her head.

“I’m alright, thanks.”

Angela thinks fondly of how, when Fareeha is asleep, and the dark of the night cups her handsome face, she can stroke her cheek gently, or draw lines against her collarbones softly with the tips of her fingers, tracing all of the scars and battled marks that litter her dark skin.  
  
Angela is sure she has kissed every one of these by now, and she knew how Fareeha had done the same for her, for the few marks she held; the large, unflattering scars on her back, and the tiny ones that lingered on the tops of her thighs from stray bullets or bombs that gave off shrapnel. But Angela doesn’t mind them so much, anymore. It meant more of Pharah’s lingering kisses against her skin, after all.

“You okay?”

The familiar low register of her lover’s voice is a welcome comfort to her ears, as Mei and Zarya stand up to get a drink. Angela snaps out of her thought bubble, instantly enamoured even further from the sensation of feeling Fareeha’s breath softly grazing her cheeks, listening as she spoke so closely to her ear.

The best part, Angela thinks, is that she can smell her own perfume lingering on Fareeha’s neck.

She grins a contagious smile, prompting Fareeha to show her own combination of smiling eyes and lips, and she speaks with a delighted tone in her voice.

 “Never better, liebling.” she whispers in return, and Angela giggles giddily as Fareeha subtly kisses the lower half of her ear whilst their friends are distracted. Fareeha’s dark eyes glint warmly under the sombre lights of Kofi Aromo, and Angela strokes the top of her soft knuckles with her thumb.

“I’m always doing my best when I see you are doing fine.”

Fareeha smiles.

“Alright.” she mumbles with a happy tone. “But you’ve been awfully quiet, you know? Are you lost in thought again?”

Angela sees an opportunity to wind up Fareeha in a way that both of them adore, and in the span of five seconds and knowing each other inside and out, between a flash of a smirk, Fareeha knows she is about to be teased. She grins apprehensively, and Angela laughs as she talks.

“…A little. But you’ll just have to make sure I’m louder later, hm?”

Angela winks at Fareeha, who scoffs and blushes, before she laughs out a bashful response.  
  
“Honestly…”

Angela laughs with a satisfied smirk, and slides a little closer up to Fareeha’s side.

Everybody knew, naturally, that they were a couple. The subtleness was more out of shyness than anything else. It was plain to see to anybody just why they had worked so well together, and Angela felt very smug about such a feat. Pharah’s abilities on the battlefield made her perfect for Mercy, and Mercy’s abilities made her perfect for Pharah, at that. Together, they kept the skies clear, fuelled by the same mutual desire to protect and serve; it was natural progression, to Angela’s mind, that she would fall in love with the woman under the golden visor not long after.

The coffee appointment doesn’t last for very long after that. Angela begins to speak a little more, almost as though Fareeha’s kiss on her skin had become some kind of boost, as it usually was. They chattered, they drank, Angela tells McCree off for smoking, they all collectively reflect on the experiences over the last week, and they returned back home to the barracks.

The moment the bedroom door is closed, Fareeha eagerly places her hands gently on Angela’s face, much to her utter delight, and kisses her lips with all of the love she has. Angela tightly wraps her arms around Fareeha’s neck, kissing back passionately, and pressing her entire body up against the strong frame of the woman she adored. Fareeha, usually, was very much a woman that enjoyed resting her hands on Angela’s hips, but this time, she wraps her arms around Angela’s waist, and pulls her even firmer up against her.

“Fareeha…” Angela mumbled through breaths in between the intimate embrace, and the perfectly fitting kisses of her lips against the woman in her arms. “I missed you, you know…”

“God…Angela…”

Fareeha could hardly bring herself to say anything at all, enamoured and lustful and head over heels, and Angela knew what she wanted to say without any words between them.

There was no sex, at first. Just intimacy. With nothing to interrupt them, they kiss for who knew how long. Angela feels her lips aching by the time she realizes her shirt is off, and Fareeha is on top of her with a leg pressing between her thighs. The intimacy was always so passionate, and it was better and better each time.

More of their love and their adoration and their lust was poured into every single touch, with every time they fucked, and with every time they made love. Every time was better than the last. Every time had more little moments than the last that Angela knew would be in her memory always. Every time they fell harder, and every time gave even better rewards, of Angela being able to lay stuck to Fareeha’s side under the sheets; one leg strewn over Pharah’s shins, tangled with her, and kissing lazily at her lips.

Fareeha smiles afterwards. She kisses the top of Angela’s head, running her fingers through her blonde waves.

“I love you.”

Angela smiles at hearing the three words she loves the most come from her lover’s mouth, and holds on to her tight in bed.

“And I love you with all my heart.”

And so, they sleep. They sleep so peacefully that night.

Angela feels Fareeha’s warmth radiate through into her dreams, dreaming of such pleasant thoughts that she could barely remember what a nightmare was, holding on to the muscled frame of her handsome fiancée. The moonlight drizzles in through the blinds sporadically, covered and uncovered by clouds throughout the night; and, surrounded by a warm blanket, the arms of Fareeha Amari around her bare skin and the security of knowing they were both still alive, Angela knows that there is nothing to make you feel more alive than the little moments with the person you love.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to follow me on mercyisgay @ tumblr! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


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